


Blasphemous

by JazzRaft



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 13:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10105283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: It was daemons that took a life before it was fully lived. How were the gods any better than what they pretended to scorn? Nyx discovers the true fate of the Chosen King.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/156826445762/hello-i-am-so-deeply-in-love-with-your-take-on) for an anonymous request.

It was his own damn fault for going where he shouldn’t.

Don’t go searching for something you’re not prepared to find.

It had blind-sided him, too, because he hadn’t even been looking for it. He’d just been curious. Had never been put on patrol in the archives. Had never expected his curiosity to get the better of him and turn his march into the forbidden sector. Hadn’t expected to open up an ancient tome detailing the lineage of the Lucian kings, just to chuckle at how different the stern, serious visages of old differed from the humble grin of the next-in-line.

Hadn’t been prepared to stop laughing when he read the short, curt line summarizing the fate of the Chosen King.

He passed through the rest of the day like he was in a vacuum. The world outside of him looked bleached and blurry. People spoke to him and he heard their voices like he was underwater. He didn’t hear his own voice if he responded to them, but he must have if they didn’t keep talking. He didn’t know what he said. He didn’t really know what he did after that. Just that at some point he went home, he didn’t change out of his uniform – somehow he felt safer in it – and sat at the edge of his bed, nails curling into the crease of the mattress and shaking.

He didn’t see the light change. He didn’t hear the phone ring. He didn’t hear the knock on the door the first time. He barely heard it the second time. The only noise that could cut through the cotton in his ears was the sound of Noctis’s voice, calling him through the door.

Perturbed. Perplexed. Growing in concern the longer he was not met with a response.

Nyx felt his legs move like wooden planks to open the door. His eyes fell just below where he knew Noctis’s would be when he let him in, at the pout of his mouth and the cross of his arms over the wiry muscles of his chest. The prince stalked into his apartment with all the self-righteous dignity belonging to a man who owned the whole city.

“Ya’know, if you’re gonna blow me off, you could at least have the decency to text me,” he was saying, pacing the tiny expanse of the apartment in irritation. “If you don’t want to go out, it’s fine, I won’t be angry if you ever want to cancel. But, you just can’t leave me hanging out there, I mean, seriously?”

They’d made plans, Nyx remembered belatedly, shutting the door with a muted click. Dinner reservations. At that one cheap restaurant with the proprietor who was easy to pay off. Nyx felt a vague stab of shame somewhere in him, the faintest feeling in a space inside that had gone completely vacant. Noctis steamed out the rest of his annoyance in clipped, compromising words, trying to understand why Nyx stood him up and offering any kind of solution that was amenable to Nyx to keep it from happening again.

He was trying so hard. He’d always tried so hard. For everybody and everything, people who deserved his effort as well as people who did not. He tried to smile when he was hurting. He tried not to hate the strangers that never understood him. He tried to love his father when he failed him, tried his best for a kingdom he never wanted, tried to be a good friend, and a better lover. And what was all of that trying going to amount to in the end?

Nyx found it hard to stand all of a sudden, wandering over to the couch and dropping onto it like a stone, hands clasping between his knees as if he were praying. To what? The god that had decided eons before Noctis had even been born that he would be the one to die for the world? The god that had _ruined_ Eos to the point of needing a King of Light to sacrifice in the first place? Nyx separated his hands and just stared at them, imperceptible tremors triggering throughout his blood beneath the skin.

“Nyx?”

The couch cushions sunk beside him, the edge of his gaze filled with the dark presence of him. He didn’t know how to look at him. Didn’t know how to tell him. If he even should. How could he tell him something that even Nyx didn’t want to know?

“Did something happen?”

He wanted Nyx to look at him. If he looked at him, then maybe Noctis could see what was wrong in his eyes. Maybe he could help without having to ask. And Nyx wanted to see _him_ and not what he was fated to be, but he was so afraid that he never would. He was terrified that if he looked over at him, tried to meet his eyes, that all he would see was a corpse’s stare.

His hand slipped into Nyx’s, giving him something to hold onto. Nyx hadn’t realized how cold they felt until Noctis’s palm warmed his fingers. Noctis quickly clasped his hands in both of his, shocked himself at how chilled they were. He massaged into them, nursing fervent touches across his gloved knuckles, up his bare fingers and back down again. He pushed kisses against each digit, warming them with his breath. Doting, delicate pecks.

“I’m sorry for going off on you,” Noctis said. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll get over it, okay, I promise. Just… whatever happened, I’m here for you, got it? I love you, I’ll help, whatever you need me to do.”

Nyx watched his mouth move, watched his own thumb escape his attentive touches to press beneath his lower lip. Watched Noctis respond immediately by turning his face up, waiting to meet his gaze. It took all of Nyx’s courage to look him in the eye, and when he did Noctis was alive. His eyes were bright and deep, mystifying Nyx with the subtle shifts of crystal magic rooted underneath. He was alive; wide-eyed and drinking in the world as if he couldn’t see enough of it; wild with rebellion, yet yearning for acceptance; wholly devoted to being deserving of all that anyone had ever given him.

How could the gods take this away from them? How could they not see the striving soul, so full of a passion for life, and be so cruel as to take that from him? It was daemons that took a life before it was fully lived. How were the gods any better than what they pretended to scorn?

Anger spiked through Nyx, made him pull Noctis a little too roughly forward to crash kisses into his lips. Noctis’s hands slid down his wrists as Nyx moved them to take his face, to turn his head so he could bury himself deep into his mouth. Small, surprised noises met the ardent presses of Nyx upon him, but he remained obedient nevertheless, hasting to comply with his silent commands, to be whatever he needed for whatever had hurt him.

Nyx pushed him down on the couch, Noctis bouncing from the abrupt impact. He climbed between his legs and kissed him more, dragged his hands through his hair, down his sides, up his shirt, rolled urgently against him. Noctis clutched at his shoulders, whimpering into each kiss, submissive and heated beneath him. He was beautiful, reverent, wanting for so much more than fate was ever going to give to him. Why, why, _why…_

“Nyx,” he gasped, fingers pushing into his side, words coming out breathless and barely committed to any objection. “Nyx, _Nyx._ As great as this is, aah, _Shiva_ … Are you sure you don’t want to talk? Is there a reason…?”

“Do I need a reason to be this in love with you?”

Nyx pulled up from where he was ravishing Noctis’s neck, hearing his own voice and thinking that it sounded like he hadn’t used it in years. Noctis’s hair was a savaged black mess against his threadbare couch, cheeks flushed a lovely pink and lips kiss-swollen. Worry was plain in his dark eyes, conflicted between pressing Nyx and relenting to him. Nyx gave him a more tender kiss this time, felt his eyes still on him as he did, searching for the right thing to do.

“I just love you,” Nyx told him, resting his head against his and trying not to scream the words at him so that he and the world and every damn callous god could hear it. “I want to love you tonight. Every night. And every day. For as long as you love me back.”

Noctis stared up at him, thoughtful in the fading light of the evening. Finally, he sunk himself down against Nyx, hips lifting against his invitingly. “Alright,” he said, putting as much comfort into his smile as he could. “I love you, too. Whatever you need, okay?”

He needed to unknow what he did. He needed a plan, a strategy, _something_ to keep it from ever happening. The future wasn’t certain. He didn’t believe in prophecy. He couldn’t believe that fate was unchangeable. That his life, that Noct’s life, was owned by beasts that had never paid for them. He didn’t let himself believe it.

And as Noctis wound himself around him, let him bury himself into his skin and make him his home, Nyx almost allowed himself to forget it, too.


End file.
